


unromantic

by reona32



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 12:03:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13717311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reona32/pseuds/reona32
Summary: Everyone thinks Illya doesn't have a romantic bone in his body. Napoleon knows just how wrong they are.





	unromantic

Illya stepped carefully over the rocky slope, careful not to dislodge anything. Balancing on a stone, he reached over and used his small pocket knife to cut a few stems of purple aster and green fern. He then made his way down to the flat plateau they had set up camp on. The camp was well hidden, surrounded by evergreen trees and long grass. More importantly, it provided the perfect vantage point to keep watch over the chateau in the valley below and its single road in or out.

Illya sat down on his bedroll and reached into his pack. He snipped a length of string off and tied the flowers into a neat little bundle. On the tiny camp stove, a pot of coffee sat to keep warm. An iron skillet of beef stew rested nearby. At the edge of the plateau, Napoleon lay on his stomach, a pair of binoculars glued to his face as he kept watch for anyone or anything traveling on the road to the chateau. They had taken turns keeping watch the last three days.

Illya crawled forward and dropped down beside Napoleon. He took a moment to make himself comfortable, brushing aside rocks and sticks that were poking him in the belly. A spare coat shoved under his chest made a good resting place. “Alright, I’m ready.” Napoleon smoothly passed over the binoculars, blinking dry eyes. Illya took them and focused on the road they were watching. He held the little bundle of flowers out as Napoleon began to inch away. “For you,” Illya said simply. The flowers were taken from his hand, although Illya didn’t look away from his watch of the road.

A moment later Illya felt lips press to his cheek as Napoleon kissed him. “Thank you,” the brunet whispered. Napoleon scooted back until he could stand without the risk of being seen from below. “And everyone thinks you’re unromantic,” he chuckled quietly, heading for the coffee. Illya grinned.


End file.
